


An Aching Fist

by Etrius_Lloyd



Category: Destiny - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:03:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4533609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etrius_Lloyd/pseuds/Etrius_Lloyd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a challenge offered to us in the game Destiny. No guns allowed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Aching Fist

An Aching Fist. 

“You face the final round.”   
Variks’ grinning voice echoes through the Prison as the steel airlock door splits in half, inviting us in. We do not hesitate, having already come this far, and step on through. How bad can it be? 

The Hive chamber is just as rotten as I remember it to be. Countless upon countless of bones litter the razor rocks that lay half-buried in the murky sand, and the constant stench of decay manages to force itself past the filtration system of my helmet. But despite the ever-impressive sight, the steel dome surrounding the entire chamber makes sure you never forget where you really are: just another cell inside the Prison of Elders. 

Confident but cautious we press on, bone breaking beneath our boots with every step we take. Already I can feel the hungry stare of the Hive in the back of my neck, lurking at us from every crevice and shadow.

“What are they waiting for?” South grunts, his hands tightening into fists. The crimson-armored Titan never could stand the silence before a fight. I can’t blame him. After all, I’m the same. Guess it’s a Titan thing. 

“Relax,” Durp urges him and takes the lead. The Hunter remains calm as ever, seemingly untouched by the Hive’s invisible presence. Even so I never find his hand straying too far from his dagger. 

It’s not long before we reach the chamber’s center where we come across a pool of sickly green water - it seems somewhat out of place amidst all the dried-up bones. Suddenly an alarm shrieks and the ground starts to shake. Before our eyes a massive steel sphere rises up from the pool, marked by a great, white symbol. I’ve seen it before. I know it means trouble. 

“The Wretched Knight, dark blade of the Hive.” Again Varik’s voice grinds in our ears, and the sphere splits open. Steam hisses as both halves retreat back into the pool, and from it hatches a single Knight. But not just any Knight. Taller than an Ogre, the armor plated monster rises to its feet, wielding a gun large enough to belong on a starship. Its three, green eyes lock onto us, growing dangerously narrow. There is a brief moment of silence in which we take in the sheer, immense size of our target. Then I open my mouth to protest. 

“Okay, I call bullshit. That thing is like three stories tall.” 

The Knight’s cannon hits me square in the chest and an explosion of white light sends me flying. Next thing I know I crash into the wall and crumple on the floor along with the rest of my fireteam.   
“Oh crap,” South grunts as he pulls himself back up. 

“Bullshit,” I mutter again, waiting for the feeling in my face to return. The indicator at the top of my HUD pulses with an alarming shade of red. “It doesn’t… even have a blade!” 

“Yeah well, you signed up for this,” Durp counters while calmly dusting off his cloak and readjusting his mask - I can’t help but be reminded of Hive eyes when I look at it. 

“I bet the others don’t have to deal with this shit,” I quietly grumble while my shields recharge. 

“Heads up.” 

As if able to smell blood, the Hive spawn starts swarming the room, emerging from their holes like roaches. I count over a hundred Thralls, easy, clicking and shrieking as they charge towards us. 

“Okay, guys. You bring him down and I’ll bring the pain.” Durp grabs his dagger which ignites with Arc energy, and suddenly he’s gone, invisible. 

“Sounds like a plan,” South says, no doubt grinning inside his helmet, and slams his fists together. “Shoulder and grab?” 

“After you,” I say, allowing him first blood. 

Without so much as a hint of hesitation, the Titan charges right at the mass of bones, teeth, and claws, roaring like the lions of old. The first of the Thralls throw themselves at him, shrieking as they stretch out their claws, but the Titan doesn’t slow down and breaks through their ranks as effortlessly as through their bodies. I stay in his wake as he runs them down like some wild beast made of metal, shattering their bony hides with raw power. But mere Thralls don’t interest us. We plow out way through towards the target, the Wretched Knight. It’s that which we must bring down. 

The leviathan spots us and fires its cannon over and over like it knows what we’re planning. But we’re too fast and its shots only serve to blow up the Thralls trying to swarm us. 

“Have a taste of this!” South bellows as he breaks through the sound barrier and rams his shoulder in the Knight’s chest. The fist-thick plate of bone shatters like fragile glass and the Knight staggers backwards, roaring in what I hope to be pain. But that’s only the first part of the plan. As one we both grab one of its arms and pull it down, forcing the giant on its knees. 

“Now!” I shout, and Durp appears on top of one of the rocks. The Hunter is fast, blinking with every step he takes, untouchable to the hordes that shift their attention to him. Lightning jolts from his dagger as he jumps, ready and eager to bury it inside one of the Knight’s three eyes. It would have worked too if it weren’t for the purple beam piercing the air which forces the Hunter to disengage and blink to safety. 

My motion sensor blinks to warn me of a threat and I glance toward the direction of the red dot. Ogres. Shit. A pair of them, lumbering towards us, firing lethal energy from their misshaped faces. At that moment the Wretched Knight finds its strength again and throws us away like ragdolls. I crash into a rock and break through it, my shields gone in an instant, and tumble across the littered dust. 

“Son of a Dreg,” I groan, laying face down in the dust. Thank the Traveler for Titan armor… 

But I’m not given much time to dust myself off. The ground quakes and a hulking shadow blankets me. I turn around just in time to see the Ogre raise its massive fists, ready to turn my bones to powder. Power wells up in the core of my being, there where the Light shines brightest inside of me. I reach inside and set it free, forging it into my Ward. 

Purple light envelops me, bonds with me, and when the Ogre’s fists comes crashing down my shoulders I don’t break. The ground caves in beneath my feet, but I don’t break. Inside the purple dome that shields me I am a wall, a mountain, indestructible. Empowered by the Ward of Dawn I shrug off the Ogre’s fists and stare it right in its sorry excuse for a face. 

Now an Ogre’s forehead is little more than a purple, jelly-like mass protected only by a thin membrane; an easy mark if you can reach out and touch it like I can right now. The beast shrieks and wails in agony as I bury my fist elbow-deep inside its face. Such a beautiful sound; I enjoy every tormented note of it, every agonized spasm. Then I let go of the grenade in my hand and kick the abomination out of my Ward. The ogre wails one last time before a blast of Void energy turns its head into goo splattering against my Ward. Too bad I’m here alone. The others will never believe me. Oh crap! The others! 

I hurry back to the center and find the others fighting off the Hive horde that swarms them like locusts. South has engaged no less than six Knights at once. An impossible fight by all standards. But the Titan has already lost his mind to the battle, and his lack of reason only makes him more deadly. Now a raging berserker he throws his fists around like today is the very last day, breaking bone, shattering swords and obliterating every foe around him like a whirlwind of fists. 

But above, the Wizards approach; floating carcasses dressed in rotting robes, poisoning the air around them with their very presence. They are an impressive sight as ever. Almost as impressive as Durp. He moves like lightning through the Acolyte’s ranks, stabbing, slicing, then disappearing and blinking on top of a Wizard’s back. The next I see of him he’s beating an Acolyte to death with the head he severed. Then the Hunter is gone again, on to the next prey. 

I watch my comrades, finding beauty in their violence. Then I join the fray with aching fists, roaring and cheering, happy to lose myself in my favorite game of carnage. No weapons, they told us. Only our Light and fists. And so we kill and break and slash and batter, slaughtering the bonewalkers like the vermin they are until all that remains is powdered bone and the dark Blade of the Hive. 

I stare at the giant Knight, my mind racing, searching for the best way to kill it. Bring it down again? Or charge with all three of us? Maybe Durp could- 

Wasted time. South crushes the skull he was holding and charges at the Wretched Knight, still blind and mad with power, roaring as lightning gathers in his hands. There is a bright flash when the two monsters trade fists and a moment later the Knight is blown to pieces, Arc energy shattering every atom it possess. 

Damn… 

South collapses in the dust, catching his breath while the last sparks of energy escape through his fingers. Durp checks his cloak for damage, then himself and walks up to his friend, limping slightly. “Remind me never to piss you off again,” he grunts while helping the Titan back on his feet. 

“Yeah…” I mumble, joining them. “What he said.” 

“Did I get him?” South pants, his armor covered in inch-deep slashes   
“Oh yes.” 

“Good,” he nods. “Fuck that guy.” 

“I think you just did,” I quietly note. “You okay, Durp?” 

“Just a scratch. Let’s get out of here and wrap this up. We’re not done yet.” 

Together we head for the airlock, a banged-up fireteam. Another victory under our belts. 

“Think the others are ahead?” 

“No idea… We lost a lot of time with the Cabal back there.” 

“Fucking Phalanxes…” I grunt. “Hey, you know what I need? Something to hit them with, you know? Like a… Like a hammer.” 

“Hmm. Wouldn’t that be something?” South muses. 

Durp simply scoffs. “You Titans and hitting things…”


End file.
